Assassin's Creed: Victorian
by shadowhunter-creed
Summary: Twelve years after the death of his parents, Edmund Jameson joins the Assassin Brotherhood. Set in Victorian Era London, Edmund must hunt down the Templars to stop their plots and avenge his parents.
1. Prologue: Up In Smoke

_**December 15th, 1864. London, England.**_

"But Father, I'm not tired yet!" the boy complained as he was scooped up in his father's arms and paraded from the family room to the staircase, much to his mother's amusement. He could see her standing beside Miss Mary Chapman, his nanny, her long gown the same soft emerald green colour as her eyes, her dark brown hair flowing around her shoulders, laughing softly to herself as he whined. Miss Mary was young, around 20 or so years of age, with wavy blond hair and big blue eyes. The boy himself was no more than seven years old, with tousled black hair like his father, and soft green eyes to match his mother, which his mother always said became brighter when he was focused; or, as he was now, agitated. "Put me down!" he cried as he struggled against his father's arms as they ascended the stairs, his mother and nanny following suit. After a minute or two, he ceased, realising it was futile.

"Settle down, Edmund," his father soothed as bent to set his son down in his bed. He stood and straightened his dark grey suit and white undershirt. He then adjusted his black top hat, which had been knocked slightly askew by his fretful son. "We will wake you up when we get back. Until then, Miss Mary will be here should you need her. Your mother and I should not be gone more than a few hours. We don't intend to stay for the full party. We'll be back before you know it." He ruffled his son's hair and gave his son a hug goodbye.

His mother hugged him also, gave him a kiss on his forehead, and pulled up the bed sheets. "Goodnight, my dear Edmund," she whispered. "We'll be back soon."

Miss Mary smiled her usual happy smile as Edmund's parents exited the bedroom. "I'll be downstairs if you need me, Edmund. Just give me a shout or come and get me." And with that, she followed them and closed the door behind her.

Edmund waited until he heard his parents and nanny reach the bottom of the stairs before softly getting out of bed. He turned the handle of his door ever so slowly, and quietly opened it. He then got himself into a crouching position and snuck down the hallway to the top of the stairs. From here, he could make out part of the conversation that Miss Mary was having with his father at the front door.

"This could be dangerous, Mister Jameson. He might not even be there!" Mary's voice came out a loud whisper.

"I tailed a couple of his henchmen three days ago and listened in on their conversation. They said he is to be present at the party," Edmund's father spoke with his usual calm demeanour. Somehow, Edmund knew that his father was giving Miss Mary a reassuring smile. "Do not worry about Theresa and me, Mary. We know what we are doing, for we have been doing it for quite some time."

"I'm aware," Mary sighed. "All right. But be careful, damn you. You have a son who needs you. Please come back."

"We will."

"Then good luck, Mister Jameson, to both of you."

And she shut the door.

When Edmund next awoke, it was to the sound of hurried footsteps downstairs and worried voices outside. He leaped out of bed and ran to look out his window. It was still pitch dark - probably midnight, he supposed - with only the moon and stars and street lamps illuminating the city of London, their light reflecting off of patches of snow. He couldn't see where his parents were, but he could make out parts of the conversation.

"Mister Jameson, what happened?" he heard Mary ask.

"...wrong target...knew we were coming...might have been followed...leave tonight...hurry." For once, Edmund thought to himself rather worriedly, his father did not sound calm.

Someone had opened the front door, and he could hear his mother more clearly now.

"Mary," his mother said, "I need you to get some things from the family room and get your things, as well. I will gather what we need from our room. Elliot, get Edmund and wait for us outside."

The next thing Edmund knew, his father had bounded up the stairs and had thrown his door open. He saw the look of panic on his father's face and knew that something was definitely wrong.

"Father, what is it? What's wrong? What's happening?" Edmund asked, hearing the panic starting to rise in his own voice.

"Edmund, come with me. We need to go. We need to go now," his father said as he took Edmund in his arms. "It's okay, my son. It's going to be o-"

Elliot was interrupted by the sound of a crash downstairs and a soft orange glow appearing at the end of the hallway.

"Theresa! Mary! They're here! Get out now!" Elliot bellowed. He then ran from the bedroom and down the stairs with Edmund in his arms, just in time to miss another firebomb that had just sailed through Edmund's bedroom window. Downstairs, Edmund managed to catch a glimpse of the kitchen, now an inferno, before his father took him outside and across the street. The December air was crisp and cool, the ground lightly dusted with snow as it fell lightly and slowly from the air, contrasting the dark night sky.

"There he is! Get him! KILL HIM!" Edmund heard a man yell. He looked back toward his house to see two men coming from around the sides. There was another crash, another blaze, and a third men appeared from behind the house. The two who had come from the sides of the house were now wielding knives and advancing on his father. Edmund thought he saw two small flashes of light coming from his father's hands. He focused his eyes on his father's forearms and was shocked to see two metal blades protruding from the sleeves of his father's coat.

The first man slashed down with his knife. Elliot raised his right blade to block the attack, using his right hand to grab the man's wrist and twist his arm before stabbing his left blade into the back of the man's neck. As he did this, the second man swung his blade. Elliot ducked, his left blade still in the neck of the first man, and cut the second man's thigh with his right blade before standing back up and stabbing the man in the back of his neck. He then pulled his forearms back and let the two men fall forward onto the snow-dusted road, blood pooling beside them. Edmund saw the third man reach for the pistol at his waist and was about to cry out, but his father was quicker, turning around while he drew a small knife from a belt at his waist and let it fly. It sailed through the air and hit its mark, right in the center of the third man's chest, causing him to be knocked back off his feet.

Elliot turned to his son, seeing the look on his face in the orange glow of their now ablaze house, a mixture of shock and awe and fear. "I'm going back in to find your mother and Mary. Stay where you are." He turned and ran back into the house, leaving Edmund to stare after him. That's all he could do. Just stare.

What felt like hours, but were only minutes, later, Elliot emerged from the fire, carrying an unconscious Miss Mary, who was wrapped in Elliot's suit jacket and coat. Elliot's face was distraught in the orange light. Edmund could have sworn he saw tears streaming down his father's face as he approached. "I'm sorry, Edmund. I'm so sorry. I couldn't save her. I couldn't reach her. Your dear mother. I'm sor-"

His father's words were cut short by a loud crack that echoed through the air. Elliot took a step back, his eyes wide with fear, his mouth trying to form words, as he looked down at his white undershirt. A red stain had appeared on the left side of his chest and was now expanding across his father's torso. Elliot looked up, not at Edmund, but behind him. He was looking at something. At someone. There was a faint, barely audible click, then another crack. A second red spot appeared on his father's shirt, and he fell back into the street.

Edmund ran towards Elliot, feeling the tears welling in his eyes. His father was alive - barely, but still alive. Edmund took one of his father's hands in his. "No, no, no! Father, don't go! Don't leave me!"

"Edmund, my boy," his father strained, "everything's going to be okay. I'm sorry, son. This is all my fault. Promise me... you'll be a good lad for Miss Mary.."

There was no stopping the tears now. They fell in the snow beside his father. "I promise, father. I love you."

"I love you too, Edmund," Elliot spoke softly, his skin paling, his eyes dimming. His hand, shaking, reached into the pocket of his vest. It emerged with something small and round, silver with a silver chain. His father's pocket watch. "I meant to give this to you on your next birthday. It belonged to your grandfather, William Jameson, and now it belongs to you." His father gave a few short coughs, and turned back to his son. "I'll be with you always, Edmund. Even when I'm not around. I will always be in your heart. I love you, my son. Goodbye..." His father turned his head, looked up at the sky, and closed his eyes for the last time.

Elliot gave a loud cry as the tears continued to fall. He turned to his house, now completely engulfed in flames. He turned back to his father, now lying dead in the snow-covered street. He turned back up the road where his father had looked when he heard the gunshots. Standing there, watching him, revolver still in hand, was the shadow of a man. The man looked right at Edmund and, much to Edmund's surprise or possibly his imagination, bowed his head as if to show remorse, before turning around and heading up the street.


	2. Chapter 1: From the Ashes

**_October 7th, 1876. London, England. _**

Edmund awoke in the middle of the night, his bed sheets tangled, his hair damp with sweat. This dream wasn't new to him; he'd relived that night many plenty of times over the past 12 years. Mary had been kind enough to take him in after the death of his parents. He looked out the bedroom window and into the silent city streets of London's East End, illuminated by moonlight and the fire of gas lamps. The house was located in the Whitechapel district. It was a small house, but it was quaint and homey, the home he had gotten used to over the past decade. I cannot see myself falling back asleep any time soon, Edmund thought. Besides, it looks like a nice night for a walk. Maybe I'll meet with Jesse down at the pubs. She ought to be around there this time of night; and what better place could there be for her to rob drunk men of their pounds? Edmund put on his black trousers, threw on a clean white shirt, and exited his bedroom, grabbing his grey coat on his way downstairs and through the front door.

He made his way down the cobblestone street, navigating the side roads and pathways, until he came upon the pubs of Commercial Street. It was busy this time of night, the street and pubs filled with patrons who were laughing and chatting, drinking and smoking, singing and gambling. The sound of clinking glasses and drunken slurs filled the air. As Edmund made his way through the crowd, he noticed the odd prostitute trying to persuade a drunken man into having a good time, as well as the occasional brawl, usually brought upon by an accidental bump, one party accusing another of cheating at cards, or by drunkenly mistaking someone's request for a second round as an insult to one's mother. However, he could not spot Jesse. He decided this was a good time to use his "gift", as his parents used to call it. A rare ability that, as they had educated him, allowed him to focus all of his senses and increase their potency. He closed his eyes for a second or two, slowing his breath, before reopening his eyes. As he moved through the street, the citizens appeared a pale blue, except for one who happened to be sitting at a corner table in The Princess Alice. This one appeared a golden yellow.

_Jesse. _

He first met Jesse when he was nine years old. He had woken up in the middle of the night for a drink of water and heard a noise coming from the kitchen. When he entered, he had found a young girl rummaging through the cupboards, looking for food. She looked about a year or so younger than himself. He managed to convince her not to run away, and they spent the better part of an hour sitting on the kitchen floor while they conversed and shared a half loaf of bread. Their chatter had managed to awaken Mary from her slumber, and although she seemed none too pleased to come down to scold Edmund for waking her up, she was very surprised at the sight of the girl and was quite kind to her. She offered her more food and something to drink, and even told her she was a welcome to stay. Jesse, though grateful, politely refused the housing offer, saying she already had a home and a family in the streets of London, and that she enjoyed the freedom. She left after that, and Edmund had been friends with her ever since, meeting up at Mary's house or in the streets, in the middle of the day or the dead of night.

Edmund walked through the front door of the pub and made his way to the Jesse's table in the back corner. She appeared to be playing a game of chess against a middle-aged gent, and she was well on her way to victory.

"Checkmate!" she cried as she cornered the man's king with her queen, then tipping the king onto its side. She then held her hand out to the man, a smile threatening to show itself on her lips. "Well played, sir. But a bet's a bet and, if I am not to be mistaken, the bet we had was fifteen pounds. Time to pay up."

The man stared at the board for a moment in disbelief before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fist full of notes. He placed them in Jesse's hand, got up, and walked away. Although he was silent, his friend, who had been watching, was quite mocking, saying things like "you poor bastard, getting beaten by a young lass."

Edmund asked the barmaid for a pint before taking the now empty seat at the corner table and turned his attention to Jesse. "Now, now, Miss Warlow, did you really have to trounce the poor chap so badly?" A young lady approached, setting Edmund's drink down in front of him. "Thank you, m'lady." She gave him a wink before heading off to a different table.

"He was the one who challenged me, Edmund. How could I have refused?" She asked with fake innocence, batting her eyelashes at him. They looked at each other with complete seriousness for a second before bursting out laughing.

Edmund took a sip of his drink. "So besides him," he inquired with a smirk, "how many other poor fellows managed to fall victim to your charm?"

"Skill, Edmund. Charm and skill," Jesse corrected with a wink. "And three others, to answer your question, though none of them was quite as good as the last. They bet a little less than he did, too. But all in all, I managed to win forty-five pounds. Think I might call it an early night, though. There are a few errands I need to run for my father."

Edmund nodded and took another sip of his drink as Jesse stood up. He stood, too, to give her a hug goodbye. "You know," Edmund said as they ended their embrace and Jesse started for the door, "in all the time I have known you, I've never met your father."

Jesse turned and looked over her shoulder at Edmund. There was something about her look. It contained a mix of humour and seriousness. "Most don't," she admitted. "My father only meets with a certain type of people. But I believe, Edmund, that you are one of those people, and, if you are, you will meet him soon enough." She gave a small wave farewell before walking out the door.

What could she possibly mean by that? Edmund wondered.

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of glass clattering on the floor and a collective silence. He turned to see the young lady from before attempting to wipe freshly spilled beer off a man's shirt. The man was clearly drunk and seemed very angry.

"You stupid wench!" The man yelled, pushing her to the ground. "You got beer all over me nice, new shirt!"

"I'm so sorry, John! It was an accident, I swear!" The lady cried. Fear was clearly visible on her face. Edmund had to help her.

"Why don't you just settle down, John?" Edmund asked, slowly making his way to the irate man. "It was just an accident."

John stared at Edmund. "Don't you tell me what to do, lad. This ain't none o' your business." He turned his attention back to the woman. "She ruined my shirt, so I ought to ruin somethin' of hers." He raised his fist.

Edmund was quick to move, grabbing John's forearm. "I said settle down. That is enough."

John now focused all of his attention on Edmund, pulling his arm free. "Are you deaf, ya little bastard? I said piss off!" He threw a punch towards Edmund's face. Edmund ducked, grabbing John's arm again and turning it elbow up, making John hunch over. Edmund thrust his right knee into John's torso, hearing him gasp for air as the wind was knocked out of him. Edmund's free fist then came down across John's face, disorienting him. Finally, Edmund turned and threw John into a nearby table, causing the man to roll over it onto the floor while upturning the table, sending glasses crashing to the floor.

Edmund turned to the crowd of people, who were now circled around him and John. "It might be best if some of you gents got him out of here," He said before heading to the door. Edmund wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a hooded man from the crowd move toward the door as well.

The October air was crisp and cool. Just the refreshment that Edmund needed after the night he had. But as he made his way back to Mary's house, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right; the feeling that he was being watched or followed. He stopped to look back over his shoulder, but saw nothing but an empty street. Calm down, Edmund, he told himself. He continued his walk back toward the house, still feeling uneasy. He took another look over his shoulder, and this time, he thought he saw a hooded figure move behind the corner of a house. The man from the pub, he thought. Edmund now knew that he was definitely not alone.

He picked up his pace to a brisk walk and rounded the next corner. There he hid, waiting for the figure to follow him. He didn't need to wait long, for after about a minute, a man in a grey hooded jacket rounded the corner. Edmund struck out, his fist connecting with the side of the man's face. The man stumbled and lost his focus long enough for Edmund to grab the man and pin him to the wall, elbow at his throat.

"You have one minute to tell me who you are and why it is you are following me, mate." Edmund demanded in a forceful voice. The man had his head bowed, the shadow of his cowl protecting his face. Then, his body began to shake. It took Edmund a moment to notice that this man was actually _laughing_.

"Oh, come now, lad. It's only been twelve years," the man remarked as he lifted his head, bringing a hand to his hood and pulling it back All Edmund could do was stare. "Do not tell me you cannot recognise your ol' Uncle Axel."

Edmund, still silent with shock, dropped his elbow and stepped back. It took him a moment to find his words. "Uncle Axel? I haven't seen you since my parents' funeral. My god, man. What the bloody hell are you doing following me?"

Axel straightened and looked Edmund dead in the eye. "We need to talk, lad. Regarding your parents, and regarding your future."

"What do you mean, uncle?" Edmund asked. "I know my father was a great doctor, and he taught me some of it as a child. He left me some of his books and journals. Am I supposed to become a doctor as well?"

"No, my boy. Your father was a doctor, yes, but that was only part of who he was. Your father was also part of an old Brotherhood." Edmund's uncle reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver pocket watch. Edmund recognised it instantly. His hand automatically went to his own pocket, feeling his own silver disk.

"My father had one just like it. He gave it to me the night he died," Edmund said.

"Then you have seen the symbol on the back? That is the symbol of our Order."

Edmund took out his pocket watch and examined the symbol on the back. It looked like an upside down V which was curved at the ends. A crescent line, pointed in the middle, ran underneath it. A smoky pattern surrounded the symbol.

"Your father was a member of that Order. As am I. As was your grandfather. As will you be, should you choose to accept, Edmund."

Edmund stared silently at the watch, remembering his parents, remembering the night they died, remembering the shadow at the end of the road, the one who killed his father.

He looked up at his uncle, the pocket watch clenched in his hand. "I accept."


	3. Chapter 2: Brotherhood

_**October 7th, 1876. London, England.**_

Edmund followed Axel through the streets of London until they reached the River Thames. They walked along the sidewalk to the Palace of Westminster. When they were standing opposite the clock tower, Axel turned to Edmund. Although it was still dark, Edmund could see a smile playing on his uncle's face.

"There is a way to enter on the face of one of the sides of the clock tower. If I am correct, you should be able to find it. Your father had informed me about your certain...abilities," Axel said with a curious look on his face.

"Very well," Edmund said. He closed his eyes and gathered his senses. He opened his eyes, seeing everything in a darker light, his uncle appearing pale blue. He circled the base of the tower, searching for anything that might look like a door or a keyhole. After a minute, he found something glowing in a golden light. Upon closer examination of the object, he noticed it was a symbol, similar to the one on the back of his pocket watch, and in the middle of it was a small circle with a horizontal slot. "I believe I have found it, uncle. It looks as though it requires a key of some sort."

"Not a key, my boy. A blade," Axel replied, raising his right forearm so that Edmund could see. Axel gave his wrist an ever so slight flick, and a thin blade appeared from underneath the sleeve of his coat. As Edmund saw the blade, his thoughts flashed back twelve years ago to the night his parents died. He remembered his father with his two blades, killing the two men who had attacked him before taking out the third as well.

Axel stepped forward and inserted the blade into the slot, giving the circle a quarter turn. There was a faint click, followed by the symbol moved raised outward. Axel pushed his fist against the middle of the symbol so that it returned to its original position. Edmund noticed that the reset of the lock had caused an outline of a door to appear. Axel then removed the blade from the slot and place his palm over the center of the symbol. He pushed the door and it swung slowly open. Edmund stared in awe as his uncle began to enter.

"Well, don't just stand there, lad. Come along," Axel instructed.

Edmund followed him through the door and into the clock tower. Once inside, they ascended a wooden staircase to the top. Here, there was a large open room, lit only by the moonlight shining through the clock's face and the window spaces. On the wall to the left of the clock's face were a wide variety of weapon racks: one for flintlocks and revolvers, one for daggers and tomahawks, and one for swords and axes, as well as an open wall-mounted box that appeared to contain shells for bombs. To the right was a bookcase filled with a wide variety of novels and encyclopaedias, as well as a large wardrobe. Opposite the clock face was a large map of the city of London along with all of its boroughs and districts. Edmund noticed there were numerous symbols of the Order placed around the map. _Other secret hideouts, perhaps?_ He mused. In front of the clock face was a large mahogany desk. On it sat a smaller version of the map, along with a quill, an ink jar, and some loose bullets; behind it sat a man clad in the same dark grey hooded jacket as Axel. A slim figure in a light grey hooded jacket stood behind him, cowl up, looking out at the city through the clock face.

"Good evening, Mentor," Axel addressed the man.

The man appeared to be in his 40s, like Axel, though he may have been a little older. His features, however, were different. Axel looked very similar to Edmund's father, Elliot: he had medium length black hair, casually pushed back from his face, and was clean shaven; he was tall and broad-shouldered, yet he looked as though he was more agile than most theatre performers; he had the same hazel eyes and reassuring smile; almost a spitting image.

The man behind the desk had shorter brown hair that was more well-groomed and a trimmed beard. His eyes were a chocolate brown and held a look of seriousness and lightheartedness. When he stood, he was slightly taller and broader than Axel was, and when he moved, Edmund couldn't help but think that if Axel was agile, then this man was graceful. When the man spoke, he was well spoken, with a light yet clear voice.

"Good evening, Axel," the man greeted Axel with a friendly smile. "I see your evening endeavours have brought company." He turned his attention to Edmund, who stood silently beside his uncle. "Might I ask you your name, young man?"

"Edmund, sir. Edmund Elliot Jameson," Edmund answered, slightly nervous.

"Ah, named after your father, I see. He was a good man, Edmund Jameson. I am sorry for your loss. My condolences," the man said. He bowed his head, as if to pay his respects to Edmund's father. "Allow me to introduce myself, Edmund. My name is Raoul Akylas Foxx, Mentor of the English Assassin Brotherhood."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but did you say 'assassin'?" Edmund inquired with baffled stare.

"Indeed I did," Raoul replied with a smile. "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but based on your appearance here, I believe you are interested in becoming one?"

"No, sir, you are not mistaken. I wish to join so that I may kill the man responsible for my parents' death."

At this, Raoul narrowed his eyes, his voice becoming stern as he walked out from behind his desk. "I understand your desire for revenge, Edmund. But if that is your sole reason for coming here, then I am afraid you have a hard lesson to learn. To be part of the Assassin Brotherhood means one must be able to look past his or her own needs and desires to aid others, to save and protect them from the control of the Templars. They are the ones responsible for the death of your parents. They are also behind many of the bad things that happen in our society and the world. You will require patience in finding those responsible, for it will not be easy to find them, and it will require you to put the needs of others before your own to aid you in gathering information. You may believe what I say to be rubbish, and you may believe that you will join only for your revenge, but I promise you, your mind will change whether you will it to or not. Even the great Ezio became an Assassin out of revenge, but he was able to open his eyes and see why the control and malevolence of the Templars must be stopped. So I will ask you, Edmund, are you capable of doing so? Can you allow yourself to put the needs of others before your own and stop the Templars from achieving their goals? Can you embrace our ideals and follow our creed?" Raoul stopped in front of Edmund, his arms up in question.

Edmund looked Raoul in the eyes. He knew he needed his revenge. But he also knew he had to help others in need. His mother and father had always taught him the importance in helping others. "I can do that, sir. I will not let you down."

Raoul crossed his arms and gave Edmund a half smile. "That remains to be seen." He looked towards the bookcase and held out his arm in its direction. "If you wish to be an Assassin, you must learn about those before you."

"If I may, sir, you said that the Templars are responsible for the bad things in our society and the world. How are we to manage that, if there are so few of us here?" Edmund asked.

At this, Raoul gave a lighthearted laugh. "We are not the only Assassins in the world, young man. We are but one branch of an entire tree. The Assassin Brotherhood has been trying to stop the Templars for over two millennia. There have been many branches around the world, such as in Italy, France, China, Japan, Egypt, even in the west in places like Cuba and the Americas. Many Assassins have aided in revolutions, such as Connor Kenway in America and Arno Dorian in France, and have even taken down very powerful and very influential Templars, such as Ezio Auditore and the Borgias."

Raoul made his way to his desk and pulled a small chest from underneath. From it, he pulled out what appeared to be a black wrist bracer. "You will be needing this," the Mentor said as he offered the bracer to Edmund. Edmund put the bracer on his right wrist, fastening the straps. "This is the weapon of the Assassins: the Hidden Blade. You will have time to learn how to use it while you train."

Raoul turned to the figure standing by the clock face, who was now facing the others. "Darling, would you be so kind as be Mister Jameson's trainer for the coming months?"

"Yes, father. Of course," the girl replied as she put her cowl down. Wavy brown hair flowed to her shoulders, her blue eyes bright in the light of the rising sun, a playful smile dancing across her lips on her young face. A face that Edmund had known for most of his life. The face of Jesse Warlow. "We will start this morning."

Edmund looked at her in disbelief. Jesse? An Assassin? How long has she been a part of the Brotherhood? How had he not known about her? Jesse approached Edmund, taking him by the arm and leading him down the stairs. Once he was sure that they were far enough out of earshot from Axel and Raoul, Edmund stopped and looked at Jesse.

"So, you are an Assassin? And the Mentor, Raoul Foxx, is your father?" Edmund inquired, his face still showing his disbelief.

"He is my adoptive father," Jesse explained. "It was soon after I met you, Edmund. A few days after the night we met. He found me in the streets and offered to take me in, to teach me how to better my chances of surviving in the streets. Then, once I became of age, he taught me of the Assassins and the Templars, taught me how to climb and blend, and he taught me how to kill. Raoul and the Assassins are the only family I have known for quite some time."

Jesse continued on with Edmund close behind her. Together, they exited through the secret door by which Edmund and Axel had entered. The sun had begun to rise, casting a feint light on the shadows of the previous night. Jesse turned to her new trainee, a playful smile on her face. "I hope you are ready, Edmund. Today is the day you begin your training; and I do not plan to be easy on you."

Edmund smiled back, a sense of happiness coming over him. _This should be rather interesting_, he thought to himself. "I would rather hope you wouldn't. But then again, I have always been faster than you."

Jesse laughed before turning around and beckoning him to follow. "You will need a lot more than speed for this training, Edmund." She stopped, looking back over her shoulder. "And just so you know, I was holding back," she said with a wink. Then, they walked on into the streets.


	4. Chapter 3: On the Trail

_**April 13th, 1877. London, England.**_

As Edmund made his way through the busy streets of London in the mid-morning, he made mental notes of his surroundings: a group of children playing on the sidewalk; a publican sweeping the inside of his establishment, making light conversation with familiar passer-by's; couples on their way to the Thames, most likely for a romantic walk; messengers and paperboys making their routes. Over the past six months, Jesse had taught him many things about being an Assassin, both mentally and physically. He had learned how to notice the way people speak and their body language, how to plan possible entrances and exits for different locations, and how to strategize assassinations for different scenarios. They had also spent time training with the array of weapons found in the clock tower - their bureau, they call it, bettering his marksmanship with his new revolver, studying bomb crafting and poison mixing - something his father had had quite a knack for, he had been told, learning how to use his hidden blade, and learning how to climb and free-run.

This was meant to be his final test. His goal was to track Jesse through the streets of London, using his "gift" - which he had learned is known as Eagle Sense, an evolved form of Eagle Vision - and his skills as an Assassin, locate her, and pretend to kill her. Jesse had taken a two hour head start. He smiled to himself as he decided to go down an empty alleyway and scale one of the buildings to get a better view of the streets. _She promised me a challenge,_ Edmund thought. _Now it is time to see if my dear friend can deliver._

Edmund stood upon the roof of the building, a light breeze playing with the coattails and cowl of his light grey Assassin robes. He focused his senses, allowing his Eagle Sense to activate. Among the stream of light blue figures walking through the streets were the golden outlines of footprints. Jesse's footprints. _I'm on your trail now, friend,_ Edmund thought to himself as he descended the building, landing fluidly in the crowd. He followed the trail through the crowd, entering into another side street, where he noticed the trail stopped by a wall. Edmund climbed to the roof and started following the second trail of footprints. He ran across the rooftops until he reached the boardwalk that ran alongside the River Thames, the giant clock tower of the Palace of Westminster looming overhead.

The trail ended on the rooftop of the last building before the waterfront. Edmund decided it wouldn't be fair to Jesse for him to use his ability the entire time, so he stopped using his Eagle Sense and climbed down the side of the building into an alleyway, then walked out into the crowd of the boardwalk. Now he relied solely on his abilities as an Assassin, focusing his attention on and making note of the behaviour of individuals and groups: the direction in which they were looking; the topic of their discussions; the manner in which someone moved; any signs of nervousness or uncomfortableness. Edmund's training with Jesse had taught him how important it was to pay attention to details. Edmund made his way through the crowd, scanning the faces of London's civilians.

He could feel eyes on him, watching him as he searched. _I know you're here, Jesse,_ Edmund mused. _Now where are you?_ Then, he saw her. She was standing about fifty metres away, looking at him through a small group of couples who were enjoying a nice afternoon on the riverfront. She gave him her sly smile and a slight wave before putting her cowl up and turning to walk away. Edmund followed suit, navigating through the busy boardwalk, gently pushing people aside. He saw Jesse round a corner, and he soon rounded the same one.

Jesse was nowhere to be seen. He looked up, scanning the edges of rooftops. He looked into the windows and analysed the doors in the alleyway as he walked, looking for any signs of recent entry. He found nothing. He reached an intersection in the alleyways when she struck out, her foot swinging for his midsection. Edmund had only just enough time to extend his arm and block the kick, but Jesse was quick with a second strike, her fist connecting with his ribs, making him stagger to the side. Edmund recovered, readying himself for another attack.

Jesse came at Edmund, her fist coming towards his face. Edmund saw his opportunity and took it. He dodged his head to the left as he grabbed Jesse's wrist and forearm, turning as he did and pinning her to the wall. Edmund released his Hidden Blade, placing it an inch from her neck.

"Got you," Edmund said with a grin.

Jesse laughed. "So you do, Edmund. So you do." Jesse shrugged him off, her playful smile present on her lips. "Now it is time to return to the bureau. Raoul told me he would have something for you if you managed to beat me." She turned on her heel, scaled the wall of the building closest to her, and made her way along the rooftops to the clock tower, Edmund not far behind.

Upon their arrival in the bureau, they were instantly greeted by a joyous Uncle Axel.

"Hello there, you two! I hope the final scenario went as expected? Well now, Edmund, do tell! Jesse, how did he fair?" Axel bombarded the two with questions.

"Settle down, uncle," Edmund responded with a smile. "I passed the test."

"Then I suppose congratulations are in order, Mister Jameson." Edmund, Jesse, and Axel turned to see Raoul had appeared in the stairwell. He was wearing his mentor robes, and in his hands he carried a wooden box. He walked toward Edmund and placed the box on the floor in front of him, then presented the young man the silver key that unlocked it. "Due to your success, I believe you have earned these. These items belonged to your father. Take care of them."

Cautiously, Edmund took the key in his hand. He inserted it into the lock and turned it. Edmund removed the lock and opened the box. Inside the box was a cane, a journal, a ring, and what appeared to be two Hidden Blades. The journal he recognised instantly; it was the journal in which his father wrote notes on medicines and herbs and the like. The ring was small and silver, engraved with the symbol of the Assassin Brotherhood. When Edmund turned his attention to the cane and the Hidden Blades, Raoul spoke.

"The staff of the cane is really a sheath for a hidden sword," Raoul explained, taking the cane in his hand. "All you need to do is pull on the head of the cane to remove it." Raoul demonstrated, revealing a thin, sharp blade. The Mentor then moved on to the Hidden Blades, removing his own to equip the ones from the box. "The first one is a combination of ideas. This sort of blade has only been around for about a century, and is an idea we picked up from our French brothers, who used this weapon during the revolution. It combines the hidden blade with the concept of a variation of the hidden gun from the days of Ezio Auditore, known as the hidden bolt. It allows the wearer to project the blade using a small folding crossbow-like mechanism, making it an effective weapon at close and long range." Raoul turned to one of the walls where a dummy target was set up, raised his arm, and fired. The blade struck the target in the centre of its chest without a sound. "It is called the Phantom Blade."

Raoul now raised his second arm. "This blade is one of a kind. Your father designed it himself. I believe he called it the Fang Blade." Raoul extended the blade - or rather, _blades_. Instead of a singular blade, there were two narrower, thinner blades, ending in points like fangs. "The instructions on its functions can be found in your father's journal. He intended it to be able to use not only as a close range weapon for combat, but as a way to administer medicines, poisons, and elixirs into a target. The blades themselves are capable of containing the concoctions, allowing them to be administered right into the target. The Phantom Blade can also be used to shoot poison darts."

Raoul took off the Hidden Blades and handed them to Edmund. "Now that you have passed your tests and have your father's equipment, it is time."

Edmund gave him a curious look as Axel and Jesse moved to stand beside the Mentor. "Time for what, sir?" Edmund inquired.

Raoul smiled, reaching into his robes. He pulled out a small paper envelope and handed it to Edmund. The young Assassin opened it, reading the name written at the top. _Thomas Warren._

"Who is Thomas Warren?" Edmund asked.

"A Templar," the Mentor answered. "One who has a knack for imposing extra taxes on the families of London for his own personal gain. He also might know of the one who killed your parents. Find him, and put an end to his illegal collections and harassment."

"It shall be done, Mentor," Edmund stated before he put up his cowl and descended the staircase into the London streets, his face full of determination. Determination to finally enforce justice on those responsible for the death of his parents.

**Author's Note**

Hello, dear readers! I apologise for the late addition of this chapter. It will probably be like that for all chapters to come from here on out, with work and school and whatnot. But I shall try my best to get them to you when possible.

I hope you enjoy!

~ Jay


	5. Chapter 4: Death of a Taxman

**_April 15th, 1877. London, England._**

Evening was falling as Edmund wandered the streets of London. Over the past couple of days, he had been tasked with finding any information he could on the whereabouts of his current target: a Templar by the name of Thomas Warren. The young Assassin was making his way towards the River Thames. Some eavesdropping here, some drink-buying for and coercing of some drunken sailors who were in port for the next few days there, and Edmund had his first possible lead. According to his newfound intoxicated acquaintances, a man on their crew will be waiting for a package to be dropped off by a man named Warren. Edmund hoped the man, named Benjamin Sterling, would prove to be an accurate lead. Now was time to find out.

Edmund walked along the dock and onto the deck of a merchant ship. "I'm looking for a man who goes by the name Benjamin Sterling," he said loud enough for the present crew members to hear. "I was told he sails on this ship. Would any of you fine gentlemen be able to tell me where I might find him?" Edmund looked around the deck to see if anyone was about to comply. None of the sailors seemed like they were willing to comply, until one man finished moving some boxes.

"The man you're lookin' for is probably at the pubs 'bout now," he said, wiping his brow with a rag in his pocket. "Benny likes a nice pint after comin' back from tradin'. I think he likes The Princess Alice, over on Commercial Street. You know the one, mate?"

"I do," Edmund replied. He extended his hand to the merchant, who shook it. "I thank you for your assistance. Good day, gents!" Edmund left the boat and walked across the dock in the direction of Commercial Street.

Upon arriving at The Princess Alice, Edmund noticed, much to his suspicions, that the pub was quite crowded with patrons. He focused his senses, triggering his Eagle Sense, finding the golden aura of his target. Edmund approached the bartender and ordered a drink so he would blend in better. Then, he approached the merchant, sitting across from him at the table by the back door.

"Good evening, Mister Sterling," Edmund said as he sat.

Benjamin looked up in surprise. "Who the bloody 'ell are you?" he demanded in a startled voice. "What the 'ell do you want?"

"Who I am is of no importance to you," the young Assassin's voice was steady as he spoke. "As for what I want, it is a person. A man by the name of Thomas Warren. I believe you know him. You are supposed to be receiving a package from him some time tonight, if I am not mistaken?"

Edmund saw a flash of recognition in the man's eyes as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His drunken sources had appeared to be paying off. "I don't know nothin' 'bout a Thomas Warren, and I sure as 'ell don't know nothin' 'bout no package."

Edmund leaned forward in his seat, looking Benjamin Sterling in the eyes. When he spoke, there was a cold edge to his voice. "Do not lie to me, Mister Sterling."

The merchant stared back at Edmund for a moment, his expression showing signs of fear. Suddenly, he pushed the table towards the Assassin and ran for the door. Edmund recovered quickly and followed in pursuit. It did not take long for Edmund to catch up to Benjamin, and when he did, the merchant pulled out a pistol. Edmund was quick to react, grabbing the pistol and twisting it out of Benjamin's hand, then striking him in the side of the head with the butt of it. The merchant went down hard. Edmund grabbed him by the collar and forced him up against a wall.

"Are you ready to tell the truth, Mister Sterling? Where can I find him?" Edmund demanded.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you! Just please don't 'urt me!" The Assassin released his grip on Benjamin's collar, but raised the pistol for good measure. "Mister Warren is out collectin' 'is taxes nearby. Once 'e gets 'em, 'e comes to the docks to lock 'em up on my ship. That's all I know, I swear!"

Edmund lowered the pistol. "Thank you, Mister Sterling. That is all I need to know. Have a good evening," he turned and walked away in search of his Templar target.

Edmund stood quietly in the shadows of a back alleyway, his eyes trained on his target. Mister Thomas Warren stood leaning in the doorway of a house as he spoke to a woman inside. Well, more like threatened, as Edmund noticed the slight glare of a nearby street lamp reflecting off the blade of the small knife Warren held behind his back. The woman turned her head and Edmund could hear her speaking, presumably to her husband. A moment later, she held out a small leather pouch. The Templar took it in his palm, weighing it, before tucking it inside his coat. Edmund took this time to use his Eagle Sense, allowing him to see Thomas Warren shrouded in an orange aura. After a few seconds, his vision returned to normal, yet he still saw his target in an orange colouring. During his studying, he had learned that some Assassins who possessed Eagle Vision, such as Edward Kenway, Adéwalé, Aveline de Grandpré, Arno Dorian, and the Assassin-turned-Templar Shay Cormac, had been able to use it to see their targets through walls. While training, Edmund discovered his Eagle Vision was advanced enough to do the same.

As if on cue with Edmund's Eagle Sense ending, the lady closed the door and Thomas Warren continued on down the street to the next house on his list. And the hunt begins, Edmund thought to himself. He followed the Templar, walking through the alleyway parallel to the street Thomas was walking on. Warren took a left at the end of the street, now walking in Edmund's direction. Edmund leaned on the side of the building and waited for his target to pass. Once he was within reach, Edmund grabbed him and threw him into the wall he was leaning on. The Templar kicked out, hitting Edmund's leg out from under him, then struck the Assassin across the face. Thomas Warren started down the alley, but didn't get far before Edmund was on his feet, revolver raised. There was a loud crack as Edmund pulled the trigger followed by the scream of his target. The bullet had hit Warren in the knee.

Edmund walked to where his target lay on the stone alleyway and grabbed his target by the collar, raising his head. "The fifteenth of December, eighteen sixty-four." Edmund's voice was cold as he spoke.

"Please have mercy!" the Templar pleaded. "Merc-"

Edmund's fist connected with Warren's face. "The fifteenth of December, eighteen sixty-four! Elliot and Theresa Jameson were murdered, their house set on fire. You almost killed their nanny and their son, too. He was almost seven years old, and you took his family away from him. Why were they targeted? Tell me!"

"Okay, okay! The Jamesons were undercover in our Order for a little over a year. We found out a couple of nights before that day, and made it known at the party," Thomas confessed. "We tried to capture them, but they killed our men and took off. The Grand Master gave the order to follow and kill them. He sent our best, and he did his duty."

"Who killed them? Answer me!"

"As if I would tell you, Assassin. I'm a dead man either way," Warren smirked, blood streaming down his face. "But before I die, tell me: What became of the poor lad?"

Edmund extended the hidden blade on his wrist. "He grew up. He joined the Assassin Brotherhood. He vowed to kill every last Templar and avenge the death of his parents."

Thomas Warren's eyes grew wide with fear and realisation as Edmund sank the blade into the Templar's throat.

Edmund climbed the staircase within the grand clock tower to the Assassin hideout. He was greeted by Raoul and Axel.

"Ah, Edmund! I assume everything went well?" Axel inquired.

"Not as well as I had hoped, uncle," Edmund replied before turning his attention to his Mentor. "Warren is dead, but he gave no mention of who killed my parents. Only that he was 'their best'."

"Very well," Raoul said. "The main thing is that there is one less Templar in our city. Well done, Edmund. Take a knee."

Looking confused, Edmund bent his knew, bowing his head. As he did, Jesse entered. Raoul stood in front of Edmund, sword drawn. On his right stood Jesse; on his left, Axel.

"Edmund Elliot Jameson. Are you prepared to travel the Eagle's path? To uphold justice? To protect those of this city from the tyranny of the Templar Order?"

"Yes, Mentor."

"And do you accept our creed and vow never to break it?" Raoul placed the blade of his sword on each of Edmund's shoulders.

"I do, Mentor."

"Excellent. Now rise, Edmund."

Edmund stood, looking his Mentor in the eyes.

"I hereby welcome you to the Assassin Brotherhood, Edmund Elliot Jameson. Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

**Author's Note:** Hello, readers! Jay here. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter in the life of Edmund Jameson. Following chapters may be a little more spaced out due to school, work, social life, etc., but I shall keep working. Thank you for reading! :)


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